


An Acute Pleasure in Looking

by i_am_girlfriday



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Book: Anne of the Island, Desire, F/M, Friendship/Love, Snowed In, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_girlfriday/pseuds/i_am_girlfriday
Summary: Anne and Gilbert reconnect at the library during an early spring snow storm in 1887. When Gilbert treks all the way to Patty’s Place to drop off Anne’s forgotten library book, she skirts propriety by insisting that he come inside until the storm passes.





	An Acute Pleasure in Looking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galfridian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galfridian/gifts).



> The title comes from Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre. The full quote is, “I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking,--a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless.”

Anne Shirley Cuthbert spotted Gilbert Blythe examining a medical atlas at a table near the great fireplace at the library. She debated if she should say hello; it had been nearly two years since he had proposed and she had rejected his offer, and they had never quite managed to get back on friendly terms. 

She approached him cautiously. “Good evening, Gilbert.” 

Gilbert looked up and tipped his head. “Hello there, Anne. What brings you to the library on a blustery Friday afternoon?”

Anne smiled, or tried to, she did not know how to behave in front of him. “Same as you, I suppose.”

“Where’s Roy?” Gilbert made a show of looking for Anne’s beau. “He’s never too far behind you.”

Anne’s smile faltered. Roy had invited her to call at his family’s home over the holiday, but she’d declined politely and they had no plans to see each other over the break. “He’s with family for Easter, like most everyone,” she finally said. 

“Except for us islanders,” Gilbert said with a tight smile. He pointed to the stack in front of him. “I can’t borrow these reference books, and exams are not far off.” 

Anne looked down at the graphic drawings, rather than away, but she was a curious person by nature. She felt a lock of her red hair escape from her updo and absently tucked it behind her ear before looking back up at Gilbert. She blushed when she caught him looking at her--for so long now he’d avoided eye contact with her. “I admit,” she stammered, “I couldn’t justify the expense for such a short trip home,” she finally managed. 

Gilbert smiled, he seemed to enjoy knowing that he had unnerved her. “Classes will be over soon enough and you can enjoy a whole summer in Avonlea then.”

“Won’t you be returning, too?”

Gilbert shook his head. “I’ll be starting at the hospital in Halifax this summer as part of my medical training.”

Anne did not care that things were awkward between them, she was proud of her friend and told him so, “Our loss will be Halifax’s gain. I’m sure your patients will adore you.”

“I’ll hardly be a doctor, just a lowly medical student.”

“Still, it sounds like quite an adventure to see life and death up close.”

“Would you like to join me, Anne?” Gilbert asked tentatively. “My table is big enough to share. Of course, if you want to find yourself a quieter corner without camaraderie, I shall understand.” 

Gilbert had kept his distance since the unfortunate night of his proposal. He didn’t ignore her entirely, though that might have been easier to deal with. Christine Stuart paraded around with Gilbert wherever he went and he greeted Anne with such indifference. Anne warmed at the invitation to sit with Gilbert, for she missed his friendship keenly.

“Well, I had planned to return to Patty’s Place, but this fire is already going and is so cozy. I suppose I can stay a while.” Anne sat down in the chair opposite Gilbert and undid the buttons on her cape. Her hands were freezing, but it was so hard to turn the pages of her book while wearing gloves so she removed them as well.

“What subject are you revising?” Gil asked.

“I’m not revising today. I am reading for my own edification.” Anne felt herself blush again. She had devised a list of essential novelists to inspire her literary goals. Her current selection met all the criteria she yearned for in a romance--it was tragical and fantastical--but she was rather embarrassed when she placed the borrowed book by George Sand on the table.

“ _Indiana_. I can’t say that I have heard of it. Is it deserving of your esteem?”

“I have only just begun, but it is promising,” Anne replied. “And you, what are you studying tonight?”

“ _Gray’s Anatomy_ ,” Gil said simply, averting his eyes from Anne’s.

Anne looked down again at the beautifully illustrated book and longed to study it in depth. She was no longer the girl who whispered about a man’s _pet mouse_ , but she knew that women were discouraged from learning about the human body and its primal functions. What Anne had witnessed and experienced as a girl, however, was far above the average young lady at Redmond College. She was familiar with the general anatomy of males and females, it was not possible to avoid it as a caretaker to both little boys and girls, and growing up on a farm had also been instructive in its own way. Marilla had given her the practical information she required when she received her first monthly. She was sure to remind Anne of the impropriety of young men and women spending time without proper chaperones and out of the watchful eye of the public. She had the Reverend to tell her about the sin of fornication, and in the very same sermon rail on about a woman’s filial duty.

Still, Anne knew her formal and moral education were incomplete. Classics, literature, and art had filled in many of the gaps for her, and her imagination did the rest. She yearned for a life not limited by the fear of carnal sin and the obligation to procreate. She knew she could not help her wanton thoughts, for Marilla herself had told her more than once that she was next door to a perfect heathen. Anne believed and hoped that within the confines of her own marriage chamber there would be room to explore the pleasures of which she’d read so often in novels.  
When Anne realized she was staring at Gilbert’s book again she blushed. Anne was not put off or embarrassed by the book, which she knew made her different than many of her peers. She was rather captivated by the detailed and almost elicit illustrations that he studied.

“Anne?” Gilbert said with amusement.

“Sorry, I…” Anne snapped back to the present. “Did you know that Henry Gray died of smallpox?” she blurted out. “He was caring for his young nephew who had the disease. His nephew survived, but Henry Gray did not. It’s so tragical. He was so accomplished at such a young age.” Anne often found her mind wandering, thinking deep thoughts, traveling back in her mind’s eye or imagining her future. Her inattentiveness seemed to vex people, so she had trained herself to recall details about an incredible range of subjects, and it was often these details that helped anchor her to the present.

Gilbert smiled at her enigmatically and returned to his work. Anne observed him taking notes in his composition book, his handwriting was neat and he seemed to have an intricate system to organize his thoughts. This was all in stark contrast to Anne’s own notes. She wrote down key words and dates, because note taking was expected and she’d learned from Mr. Phillips that it was best not to disappoint her teachers. For the most part, however, Anne had a photographic memory. She couldn’t recall a time she could not read, and though she did not have the benefit of a formal education until she moved to Avonlea, she had read any books that passed her way. Her ability to memorize whole texts allowed her to enjoy them over and over again, long after she’d lost physical possession.

An hour passed before Anne started to feel the pangs of hunger. She tried to remember when she last ate and found that it had been breakfast. She cleared her throat and at that precise moment her stomach rumbled loudly in the very quiet library. Anne blushed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. “Pardon me,” she said while covering her mouth.

Gilbert stifled a laugh. “I guess it’s getting to be that time.”

“I should get home and see what I can cobble together for supper.” Anne rose from her chair and began to bundle herself back up to face the elements. 

Gilbert stood out of courtesy. “I have a bit more work to do tonight before I can leave.”

She noticed Gilbert watching her and it made her hands shake ever so slightly. She wound a wool scarf around her neck, then pulled on her cape. She fumbled with the buttons, but eventually she was ready to take her leave. She slipped her handbag over her forearm and waved.

“Have a good evening, Anne.”

“Thank you, Gil. Don’t stay too late. It’s supposed to snow again tonight.”

Gilbert nodded and smiled.

Anne walked home, shivering under her thin layers. She had worn her second favorite dress, made of cotton and meant for warmer weather. She had hastily thrown on her scarf and cape when she realized the sun had not come out despite it being officially spring. She liked the snow, but like all Canadians, her passion for it had waned by Easter. The current storm delivered wet snow and bitterly cold winds. The slush collected along the streets, making Anne’s trek home a slippery one. She was still fleet of foot and hopped around the semi-frozen puddles in an effort to keep her shoes and gaiters dry. Anne loved being a woman and all the things that entailed--putting her hair up, bosoms, and dresses with puffed sleeves (she could leave her monthly)--but she found herself wishing she could wear trousers and boots in the winter. It would make getting around so much quicker and less treacherous.

When Anne arrived at Patty’s Place, she quickly divested herself of her outer, damp layers. She tossed some logs into the fire and stirred the embers to get it roaring again. She couldn’t wait to settle down with her book on the sofa under the warm blanket Marilla had gifted her for Christmas. It was a beautiful dark green knitted blanket that reminded her of Green Gables. It was slightly old fashioned but very well made and useful. Anne went up to her room and put on a house dress, a sturdy grey wool one that ranked near the bottom of her dresses, but it matched her eyes and did have the slightest puffed sleeves. Anne took off her winter gaiters and shoes and switched to some woolen stockings and a pair of dainty slippers that Diana had given her for her birthday.

When Anne padded back downstairs she heard someone rapping at the door. Aunt Jamesina usually answered the door since her bedroom was nearest, but she had gone to visit an ailing friend in the neighborhood. Anne tried to make herself presentable, though her hair had come undone. She did her best by tucking loose tendrils of hair behind her ear and sweeping her long braid over her shoulder.

She fiddled with the curtain to peek at whoever was calling through the curtain on the door, “Hello,” she said cautiously. 

“Anne, it’s me, Gilbert.”

Anne unlocked and opened the door. “Gilbert! What brings you here?” 

Gilbert stood in her doorway shivering and looking miserable. Anne ushered him inside the vestibule and shut the door, she didn’t want to let out all the warm air. She knew she was walking a fine line of propriety; Gilbert was a gentleman, but gentlemen and ladies were not supposed to be unchaperoned, they both knew that.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but you forgot your book.” Gilbert produced it from inside his coat pocket.

Anne’s hands flew to her cheeks. “Thank you so much, I had no idea I had even left it. I would have been miserable tonight once I discovered my folly.”

“I’m glad I made the effort then.”

Anne looked outside through the window and saw that the weather had gotten worse. In addition to the blustering wind, the sleet had turned to snow. The walk from school was not terribly long, but Gilbert’s residence was in the opposite direction and up a hill. 

“Gil, it’s terrible outside. You must stay a while. Warm yourself by the fire.”

Gilbert looked at her askance. “Anne…”

“We are friends, and I insist on giving you shelter from the storm.”

“You aren’t afraid of what people will say?”

Anne blushed. “There’s no one around to say anything.” She ushered Gilbert into the parlour and took his damp coat. She noticed his shoes looked soaked through. “Come. You’ll catch your death in those,” she pointed to his feet.

“I admit,” he said sheepishly, “I was not careful on my way and ran straight through some puddles.”

Anne hung his coat near the fire, which was now a steady roar. She went to her room and found another pair of wool socks and gave them to Gil to wear while he warmed up. 

“Thank you, Anne, that’s very kind of you.”

Anne did not like the way Gil’s eyes grew soft as he undid his shoes. She leaped up from the sofa and proclaimed, “Sustenance! I’ll go see what we have.”

Anne busied herself in the kitchen and cursed inwardly for not having gone to the market. It was Prissy’s turn, but she had gone out of town and Anne hadn’t thought of it except for at meal time when she had so few choices. 

“Anne? I really should go. I don’t want to impose,” Gilbert said from the doorway with his shoes in hand.

Anne looked at him thoughtfully. “It’s no imposition.” She sighed. “But you must swear not to comment on the meal.”

Gilbert returned to the sitting room while Anne prepared their supper. Anne only had two vegetables, but she’d make a feast of them. She was inspired by the cook at Aunt Josephine’s house--she cut, mashed, seasoned, and she was generous with the cream and butter. When she brought the food to the table Gilbert was scrubbed clean and had a smile on his face. He began to chuckle when he saw the platters of food.

“Gilbert, you promised!”

“I didn’t know what I was promising. I am sorry, Anne.” He covered his mouth with his hand. “Carrots and mashed potatoes, how apropos.”

Anne could not help it, she turned red for the second time that day. “These carrots are cooked to perfection, buttered with _herbes de Provence_ and lightly salted.” Anne served herself while Gilbert spooned some of the mashed potatoes onto his plate. “I learned to make these from Diana’s aunt’s cook. They served us the most delightful meal that time Jerry and I had to stay with her in Charlottetown. Truly, it was the first time I could eat carrots and not with a bit of resentment.” She punctuated her sentence by taking a bite. 

“I never understood why you practically screamed at me that you’d make a terrible wife when you girls delivered me that shepherd’s pie.” Gilbert looked at Anne slyly.

Anne huffed. She remembered clearly how awkward she felt visiting Gilbert after his father’s funeral. They had quarrelled because Anne had been insensitive. She was on edge about it and had begged her friends to let her leave. “It was Ruby, she made me go. She always wanted to impress you.” Anne looked down and thought of her dearly departed friend. “She and Diana were talking about how the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. And I…”

Gilbert smiled playfully.

“ _Boy_. You were a _ridiculous boy_ then, not a man. But I didn’t want--”

“--You didn’t want to give me any hope that you wanted to marry me,” Gil said with a tone of bitterness.

“I don’t know that I want to marry anyone.” Anne sat forward, refusing to be baited. 

Gil pursed his lips. “You may want to tell Roy that.”

Anne dropped her knife and fork with a clatter. “Perhaps this was a bad idea. I thought…” Anne had hoped they could move past Gilbert’s proposal, but maybe they never would be the kind of friends they once were in their youth. 

“I’m sorry.” Gilbert hung his head. “I have no right, Anne.”

She sighed heavily. 

“The food is excellent.” Gil took a bite of a carrot and chewed. “Delicious, even. And I am grateful. I never had any hope of getting an invitation inside. I really did want to bring you your book because I knew you’d be disappointed once you realized you had forgotten it. And I half thought you might be crazy enough to run back to the library in this miserable weather.”

Anne smiled. “I’m glad I was able to cook two vegetables well. Marilla will be pleased that all her fortitude has paid off. Though, I shall leave out the part that we were here alone. All of Avonlea would be scandalized.” Anne raised an eyebrow.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Scandalized?”

Anne laughed. “You would be shocked or perhaps delighted to find that I have a much more liberal attitude than those in our circle.” 

“Truly?” Gilbert cocked an eyebrow. On any other man it may have been intimidating, but it was impossible for Anne to take Gilbert seriously with his floppy curls falling over his eyes.

“Yes, I may even have done something that would shock you, Gilbert Blythe, man of the world.” Anne had a point to prove now.

“I am a man of the world.” He puffed out his chest in pride. “I lived on my own and had a job at the docks before I was even out of school.” 

“Your rebellious phase,” Anne mocked him. 

Gilbert had chosen to be out on his own, and though she had learned she could not compare their situations, she thought it unfair that she should be judged harshly for having been on her own until the age of thirteen. She had worked in people’s homes and had had to fend for herself, and her life did not get better when she was in the orphanage. There were three meals a day there, but Anne would have traded the food for her freedom, for her safety. She shuddered at the memories. Anne took a sip of her water, an act to clear her mind of those thoughts, and then noticed that Gilbert’s glass was empty. She moved to refill it for him.

“I can do it.” Gil tried to reach for the pitcher.

“You’re my guest,” she insisted and poured more water for him.

“Tell me Anne, tell me something shocking,” Gilbert teased.

Anne girded herself. “I once got drunk with Diana and we acted so improper that when her mother found us she severed all ties between us.” She smiled smugly. She was no longer embarrassed by the event, and instead looked back on it fondly.

“Marilla Cuthbert had alcohol in her house?” Gilbert screached.

Anne rolled her eyes. “It was for medicinal purposes, and it was quite by accident. I meant to serve the raspberry cordial but we drank a whole bottle of currant wine by mistake.”

“Getting drunk is naughty, but it was on accident.”

“So it doesn’t count?”

Gilbert laughed and shook his head.

“Okay, then what about you, Mr. Perfect who never gets himself into scrapes?” Anne challenged him.

“I got into a fist fight with Billy Andrews. Moody Spurgeon told me I left quite a bit of damage to his rat face.”

Anne smirked. “You had plenty of reasons to get violent, if I’m not much mistaken.” She had heard that Gilbert had been defending her, though she always laughed it off as an absurd rumor.

Gilbert blushed ever so slightly. “True.” He finished the last of his supper and placed his napkin on the table. “All right, anything else that might shock me? And remember, I know you pretty well, Anne, and not much can shock me anymore.”

Anne took a deep breath and thought of all the scrapes she had gotten into when she was younger and new at Green Gables. Most were funny, and she knew that Gilbert had either witnessed them or had heard tale of them. But there were some stories she could tell Gilbert that she hadn’t dared tell anyone--about her time before she became a Cuthbert. She had learned quickly that most of her experiences were not the kind of stories she should share in polite company. Josie Pye had called her trash, and Marilla knew her troubles at school when it came to relating to the other girls.

Anne remembered how scary it had been traveling back to the orphanage by herself. There was the potential for so many scrapes then, and she’d gotten through it by the skin of her teeth. Jerry thought he was tough and had to protect her when they traveled alone to Charlottetown, but Anne had her wits about her far more than he did. She knew that there were bad men who lurked in dark alleys and what they did to poor, friendless children. She knew that there were bad men dressed as good men long before those grifters had set their sights on Green Gables. She had felt a man’s eyes on her as a young girl, and when she grew older, she knew the way they that some men looked at her was unnatural, evil. She would take all the prayers Marilla could spare for her.

“Anne?”

Anne looked up at Gilbert. She had done it again, disappeared inside her head. She tried hard to find the thread of their conversation and pick back up where she had left off, like she did so often. “I’m sorry. I’ve--”

“--Where did you go to, Anne?”

“Pardon?”

“In your mind. I can see when you’re deep in thought.”

She pursed her lips. “I really can’t say,” or rather, she wouldn’t say.

Gilbert sat forward in his chair and looked at her carefully. “You’re a mystery, Anne.”

She bristled at the implication. “I am not a puzzle for you to solve.” 

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert looked confused. “That’s not what I meant.”

Anne huffed. “Then what do you mean?”

Gilbert chose his words carefully. “I suppose I meant, what I have always desired, is to know you.”

Anne felt something she had longed for, and had found only three times before in Matthew, Marilla, and Diana. Gilbert was a kindred spirit, someone who saw her flaws and wanted to know her still. She had never considered Gilbert as a kindred spirit--perhaps because she had set out from the beginning to dislike him--upon her introduction to him she knew he was off limits, reserved for Ruby Gillis because she had liked him first.

Anne had treasured the closeness she had had with Gilbert before his proposal, she had liked that he saw her as his equal, and at times, even his better. She had never wanted to ruin what they had with something as clumsy as love. Even though Anne was a romantic, she preferred it on paper, in books. She had been crushed before, beaten down all her life, and she never dreamed she would be a wife, that she would find love. But she already had more of it than a poor orphan like her could have ever hoped for. 

Anne was terrified of her feelings, she wanted to flee from them. She wanted to run away and seek solace outside in the fresh air, but she could not, as the storm had gotten increasingly worse over the course of their supper. For all her discomfort, she could not ask Gilbert to go and she could not take refuge in the garden or walk around town to clear her mind as Anne often did. She swallowed a lump in her throat and felt her eyes welling with tears.

“Anne, are you alright? You look quite unwell. You’ve gone pale and your hand is trembling.”

Anne looked down at her hand where it gripped her glass of water. “I must confess…” she almost said the words, the ones that she’d long harboured about Gilbert, but never dared examine.

Gilbert stood and rushed to her side. “You must be cold, chilled to the bone by this weather. Come, let’s warm ourselves by the fire.” He helped her stand and draped her shawl around her. “This is a fine shawl, but certainly meant more for fashion than for function. I’m sure Marilla sent you off with something more sturdy. Do you have any wool blankets? I’ll fetch them for you.”

Anne pointed to a chest in the hallway. She let her feet carry her to the sofa. Once by the fire she realized she was shivering. Marilla always told her she was vain, but Anne contested it was not possible since she was ever so homely. Anne was vain, and perhaps it served her right, she had caught a chill from dressing in something lovely rather than warm. 

“Here, I’ve found them.” Gilbert returned to the parlor and tucked the green knit blanket around Anne’s shoulders and then set a heavy wool one down on her lap.

Though moments ago she was in despair over her feelings for Gilbert, she felt comforted by his mere presence. “You are so thoughtful, Gil. You will cure those in need and tend to their convalescence sublimely.”

Gilbert chuckled. “Oh Anne, I shall miss your ability to romanticize everything.”

“I count it as one of my greatest skills.” Anne could not help preening from his compliment. There were so few people whom Anne respected, and praise from Gilbert had such meaning because she knew he had impeccable taste and an irreproachable mind.

“Tell me more about your writing. How does it go?””

Anne delighted in being asked by Gil about her writing. She usually felt embarrassed when she talked about her writing with Roy because he teased her about her romantic ways. And Diana was her dearest friend, but she could not be critical of Anne even if she tried. Marilla was pleased by her progress, but never let herself get too sentimental about Anne’s stories. And then there was Phil, whom she would confide in if only her opinions were not so indecisive.

Anne delved into to the topic wholeheartedly. She told Gilbert about the stories she had submitted and which ones received favorable feedback. “I am waiting for a break from school, and then I will revise and rework them to send out again,” she explained. “I am not delaying the process of revision on purpose, but our final year of school has been a burden. So many papers and obligations.”

“I feel as if I spend half my time studying and the other half applying for positions,” Gilbert added.

“Yes, it’s almost too much to bear. I cannot wait for this term to finish so that I can take a breath and enjoy the gorgeous air in Avonlea.” Anne felt instantly guilty, for there would be no such break for Gilbert. He would work straight through the summer for his medical training. “When do you expect to make it back to the island? You know all of Avonlea will miss you.” Anne would miss Gilbert fiercely.

“Not for two years, perhaps. Unless I am very lucky and can find the time or the funds.”

“The whole town would take up a collection, you only have to whisper in the direction of Mrs. Rachel.”

“Perhaps I shall, when I find the time.” Gil smiled. “But promise to write to me? Yours and our other friends’ letters will be my only company in Halifax.” 

Anne laughed. “You will make new friends.”

“Promise,” Gilbert said.

“I’m sure Fred and Diana will have much to share about how their lives get on,” Anne mused.

“And I hear Jane Andrews is to marry her wealthy beau this summer.” Gilbert sounded like Mrs. Rachel herself.

“Don’t forget Josie Pye,” Anne said slyly.

“One never forgets a Pye.” Gilbert tapped the side of his nose.

They shared a conspiratorial smile. A moment of sadness cast a pall over their otherwise light conversation. Ruby. This was to be Avonlea’s first summer without Ruby. “I will visit Ruby’s grave and decorate it with a crown of cherry blossoms.”

“Ruby always did look fine in pink.”

Anne felt tears spring to her eyes. “She did.” It touched her knowing that Gilbert had commented on Ruby’s beauty, because nothing would have delighted her friend more than to hear him say it.

Gilbert looked young and sad, a reminder of him from their adolescence. It was very easy to look on those years with rose-colored glasses, to only remember their good times in Avonlea, but it was the sad times, the hard times that offered the sharp relief of all the beauty and goodness there. Anne knew that Gilbert was her kindred spirit because he also seemed to understand that.

“How are you feeling now, Anne? Better?” 

Anne liked Gilbert being so concerned with her comfort. There was a time when she had no one to look after her like that. She had longed then for someone, anyone, to care about her. 

“Anne?”

“Yes, I’m…” Anne was lost again, caught in a memory.

“Where are you Anne?”

Anne looked at Gilbert and felt that for the first time she could share where her mind had gone off to. She knew he would not judge her or think any less of her. “I was thinking about when I was sent away from the Cuthberts.”

“Oh.” 

“It was before you returned that summer to Avonlea.”

“I don’t believe I know this story.”

Anne grimaced. “It was a misunderstanding, and the Cuthberts decided, Marilla mainly, that I should go back to the orphanage. I was sent back alone with just the clothes on my back and my ratty old carpet bag.” She held her hand up as if remembering the shape of it. “It had this handle that would come undone if you didn’t hold it just so.”

“What made you think of that?”

“The blanket. You asked me if it helped, and it has. I am quite warm now, no longer shivering. But it reminded me of the journey back to the mainland. I hunkered down next to the hull of the ship, at the bow, the winds just whisking over my head. I had a little shawl for my frail shoulders. And I was frail, and homely, as Mrs. Rachel said. It was a hard time, but I made it. And look at me now. I have blankets to spare and friends, real and true friends like yourself, and a family. I am rich.”

Gilbert looked at her in awe. “Thank you for sharing.”

“I have a bad habit of getting lost in a moment. Most of them are painful moments from before I came to live at Avonlea. They can be paralyzing at times.”

After a while, Gilbert added, “It is not a habit you set out to form, but rather a response when you are reminded by certain stimuli--a word, a feeling, maybe even a smell.”

Anne nodded. 

“The Greeks used the word trauma--it means to be wounded or pierced--but it has an Anne-like quality, don’t you think?”

Anne agreed, she liked the word trauma because it rhymed with drama. “Yes, I suffered a trauma. My very soul has been pierced, but I am still here. I am still standing, I am whole.”

“You are Lady Triumph.”

Anne smiled. She liked that image of herself as a diaphanous warrior, the juxtaposition of the ethereal and the earthly. “I feel so fortunate that you understand me so well, that you do not pass judgment.”

“We are both different, Anne. My father was an adventurer and he encouraged me to live a life that is more than ordinary.”

“And you are, Gilbert Blythe. Everything you do is nothing less than extraordinary.”

Gilbert seemed to like the praise from Anne, just as much as she liked it from him. They talked like that for hours, Anne revealing more to Gilbert than she had to anyone ever. Gil had seen the world when he left Avonlea. He had seen corruption and crime, poverty and illness, how hard life was outside of Avonlea when one only had their wits to rely upon. It felt good to share some of her burdens. And when she did shock Gilbert with stories she had never told anyone, he was not disgusted by her. It seemed to only increase his admiration and compassion for her.

Anne and Gilbert remained on the sofa the duration of the night, under piles of blankets, with the fire crackling. Sometime after midnight, when the storm was at its worst, they both seemed to give up the idea of Gilbert leaving. Gilbert apologized repeatedly for his imposition, until Anne admitted she was enjoying herself, propriety be damned. Anne’s admission seemed to relieve Gilbert, because he would never want to compromise Anne in any way. 

In the morning, when Gilbert woke and pulled back the curtains slightly, he saw only white blanketing the street. In the distance he saw a little figure making its way toward Patty’s Place. He knew instinctively it was Aunt Jamesina, Stella Maynard’s aunt who kept house for the girls. 

Gilbert tried to rouse Anne but she was slow to wake up. “Anne!” he shook her gently by the shoulder. “Aunt Jamesina is just down the steps. I’ll go through the back door before I’m spotted.”

“What now, Gil?” saying Gilbert’s name aloud seemed to alert Anne to the risk of being caught with a man in the house. She stood up from the sofa, her limbs tangled in blankets.

“I must go.” Gilbert hopped on one foot while trying to put a shoe on. “Thank you for the shelter. And the meal. Not least, your company.” Gilbert tipped his hat and then raced toward the kitchen, snatching up his other shoe and coat and scarf along the way.

Anne had less than a minute to collect herself before Aunt Jimsie was upon her, fretting about the snow storm and how she had been stranded at her friend Millicent’s house. Millie had insisted on keeping Jimsie all night long, though Jimsie was reluctant to leave Anne alone at Patty’s Place.

“All is well. I had a quiet night in, and as you can see, I am no worse for wear.”

“You are a clever one, Anne. Curled up by the fire with a good book, probably none the wiser about the blizzard going on beyond our front door,” Aunt Jamesina said.

Anne smiled and nodded. She would hold onto her conversation with Gilbert until she could make things right between them. She’d have to end things properly with Roy, and Gilbert would have to let Christine down, then there were exams to think about. But Anne had hope that she and Gilbert were going to work things out. He hadn’t spoken the words, but Anne felt that Gilbert loved her still, and she would do whatever it took to get him to see that she loved him in return. The blizzard would remain a beautiful memory once the snow melted.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun imagining this Anne a little bit older. Your prompt was just too good to pass up!


End file.
